


Trapped

by tennambarmetta



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:17:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennambarmetta/pseuds/tennambarmetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped

"We retreat to the Chamber of Mazarbul!" the shout echoed in the 21st Hall and Ori slaughtered the orcs in his path as he followed his comrades into the chamber.

_I shall never again behold the majesty of this hall,_ he realised.

_So be it._

He was not afraid to die, not afraid to return to his maker.

_(Will Mahal think that all this was a folly? Or will he be proud of his children?)_

They shut the doors behind them and barricaded them.

"This," he said "shall be our final stand. Make it worthy of song."

"And who shall sing of us? We're all going to perish!" someone shouted.

Ori turned back and saw Balin's tomb. And the book of Mazarbul on it.

(He then remembered a morning in Erebor, years ago. Balin -his eyes full of hope and excitement- invited him to come. And Ori believed him. Believed they could retake Khazad-dum.)

_Dori always told me I was naive. Perhaps he was right._

"Our memory will not."

He walked, slowly and opened the book. He started writing.

_We shall not be forgotten. Our deeds shall be made into song and they shall be remembered._

Trapped in the halls of his ancestors, all he could do was to write. To record.

_We hear drums. Drums in the deep._

The sounds got closer with every second. Warcries joined them.

Ori's hands were shaking. His writing in Elvish runes, normally neat and beautiful, was rushed and messy.

He could now hear cave trolls as well.

_I wanted the Halls to be ready when Durin woke again._

Something hit the door.

_I want to see Erebor again. I want to look into the cold waters of Kheled-Zaram again._

The door was about the break.

_They are coming._ (This was the last thing he'd ever write. It felt weird, this certainty.)

_What a valiant way for my tale to end._

_Durin's folk do not flee from a fight,_ a voice inside his head said. He was not sure who said it but he did not care.

He did not want to flee.

He fetched his axe.

**Author's Note:**

> Khazad-Dum: Moria  
> Kheled-Zaram: Mirrormere


End file.
